Intoxicated
by Todash
Summary: R&R in Tokyo, too much booze, not enough self-control. Slash, B.J./Hawkeye.


**Intoxicated**

You close your eyes and you think: well, this is certainly weird. It doesn't even seem real. It seems like some crazy movie that you're watching and starring in at the same time.

You're on R&R in Tokyo with your best friend in all the world, and the evening has taken a decidedly bizarre turn. The two of you came back to your room after a night of drinking—oh yes, you're both _very_ drunk—and somehow you ended up on the bed, a little bit tangled, limbs everywhere, bodies pressed together, laughter filling the room. And now… well, now he's kissing you. On the mouth. And at the same time, one of his hands is burrowing under your shirt, stroking your side.

You can feel the kiss all through your body. Never before have you kissed a guy, and this guy—well, let's just say this guy is the only one you could ever imagine yourself kissing. You love how it feels. You're not pushing him away even though you know you ought to… in fact, you reach out and grab his shirt and pull him a little closer. You're trying not to think too much, you're just enjoying the moment. Because let's face it, you have been wondering for a long time what it would be like to kiss Hawkeye. There was that dream a couple of months back, the sexy dream that got you all sweaty, and you woke up with a hard-on. And there have been quite a few times when you've looked at him and thought, _Wow_, because he's beautiful—at least he is to you. And never once have you questioned why you have this obvious attraction to your tentmate and colleague. You don't wonder what it means, whether it's suggesting a whole other side to your psyche that you never considered before. Because this is Hawkeye, after all, and what man, woman or child wouldn't adore Hawkeye?

He's still kissing you, his lips soft and giving, and you realize this has gone on so long that it could now officially be considered making out. You were nearly falling-down drunk a few minutes ago, but suddenly you feel sober and alert, your senses sharpened, your mind on overdrive. Heat pools in your groin.

His mouth moves to your neck and his tongue licks you there, and you laugh again. His hand's still under your shirt, and now it's gently rubbing your stomach, and you're starting to wish he would move it just a little further down…

And why are you thinking such thoughts? You're so confused right now, so far past the point of common sense… There's a woman thousands of miles away who's wondering how you are, who's praying that you get home to her in one piece… and how _are_ you, by the way? You're kissing and cuddling with your best friend, that's how you are. You're very turned on, and you're wondering if you even know exactly what two men do together in bed, and you want to stop these thoughts, because you can't let this get that far. You can't.

Except right now, the last thing you want to do is stop anything. Not the thoughts and certainly not the activity. This is the best you've felt since you landed in Korea. This is the nicest thing that's happened in… well, forever, it seems.

Hawkeye pulls back a little and you look at his face, the drunken smile, the gleam in his eyes. You smile back at him, and he tenderly strokes your cheek with the back of his hand. "Y'know," he says, his speech a little slurred, "you have the sexiest smile I think I've ever seen."

That makes your stomach do a little twirl. He should know sexy, he's the king of all things sexy. Before you can even say anything—and what were you going to say to that, anyway?—his mouth is back on yours, and this time his tongue invites yours to play tag, and you moan.

All right, you think, enough is enough. We've got to stop before…

Before what? Before you get to the point of no return, you suppose. You feel like you're awfully close to that now. You'd like nothing better than to start peeling off his clothes and learning his body. You want to hear him say "Beej" in a voice that's husky with desire. You want to make him forget about the war, about the 4077th… about everything.

Your mind is showing you tantalizing pictures of a naked Hawkeye, and you feel your body starting to react… when all of a sudden he stops kissing you and buries his face in your neck. There's a sleepy little groan and a sigh against your skin. He's obviously tired and fading fast, and it appears that your impromptu make-out session is over… just like that. You were scared to death of this going too far and now that it's clear that won't happen, you feel empty and disappointed.

But after a moment the disappointment gives way to exhaustion. His breathing in your ear is slow and steady, and it's lulling you into sleep. You shift to get more comfortable and put your hand on his hip, and your last conscious thought is how nice and natural it feels to fall asleep in his arms like this.

*****

When you wake up the next morning, even before you open your eyes, you reach out and realize you're alone on the bed. You can hear the shower running in the bathroom. You lie there, appalled by the fuzzy thing in your mouth that must be your tongue, and it all comes back to you. The kissing, the passion, the yearning.

You hear the shower shut off and soon Hawkeye comes into the room, a towel around his waist, and you can't deny that you lie there wishing the damn towel would fall to the floor. He says, "Good morning, Beej!" in a cheerful voice, and he clearly isn't suffering from a hangover, at least not a big one.

You mumble "Good morning" back, and you wonder what else you should say, what you could possibly say, after the events of last night. But it turns out you don't have to say anything, because he's going on and on about what he wants to do today, and you wouldn't be able to get a word in edgewise even if you wanted to.

And suddenly it hits you. You can tell by the things he's saying, by the way he's acting, that he doesn't remember any of what happened last night in this room. And you feel like you've been kicked in the gut.

Because you… You will never forget it.


End file.
